


Everything Nice

by Guardian



Series: Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Fluff, Friends to Co-Parents to Lovers, I assume at some point they'll have sex, Kissing, M/M, Nate has an Elaborate Seduction Plan™ but it's been 6 years and I don't remember it, i guess, nate and wade not the dog, oh god now my tags are tainted, oh wow there's a dog in here too, probably, uhhh idk yet lol i can't remember
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian/pseuds/Guardian
Summary: Nate tried to put his finger on exactly what the word was to describe this plan budding in his head. Courtship wasn't quite the word that was compatible with Wade. And 'dating' was something that didn't come close to fitting the plan. It was more like... seduction.





	1. Chapter 1

"Gimme," Wade said, pulling at the bucket and plunging his hand in when Hope tried to keep him away from the popcorn.

"Nate!" Hope hissed, frowning at the enormous popcorn bowl in her lap which was massively lacking in popcorn, and they were barely into the movie. "Tell him to stop hogging it all."

"Wade," Nate began in a tone that was both amused and serious.

"You guys know _nothing_ , I swear," Wade rolled his eyes, an impressive feat given the fact that he was wearing his mask. "Super Jumbo Popcorn comes with _free refills_. What's the point of not using them?"

Wade crammed every last bit of popcorn into his mouth, and then grabbed the empty tub and got up to refill it. Why he decided he had to exit the row by climbing over Hope and then Nate was anyone's guess, except for the obvious reason: to be difficult and make a scene.

"Oof! Clumsy me!" Wade said, tripping into Nate's lap. "Shaddup," he said to a 'shush'er in the audience, finally managing to get through the row of seats and exit theater #4. The number was important to remember, apparently. He'd learned that the hard way when he had to take a potty break right after the opening trailers (they were so long, and Nate insisted on being on time for the viewing, which meant they were too early, and Wade had been thirsty and that Super Slurp was way bigger than his bladder) and he had accidentally gone into theater #1 and had a mild panic because he couldn't find Nate or Hope anywhere.

"But they make the place so confusing," Wade said aloud to himself as he entered the lobby. "All these lights and _signs_ with _words_ on them."

It had been about three weeks since Wade kicked Wolverine's butt in Central Park. Yes, true believers, when Wolverine and Cyclops had come to take Hope away, Wade had saved the day and sent the X-Men home crying, never to tell a soul about Hope's return, or her current location.

Pacton, an imaginary California town near San Francisco, had a lot to offer, including this nice movie theater. Nate had a little home of his own, with a room for Hope that they'd spent an entire weekend repainting on Wade's insistence (he only liked the pink because _Hope_ liked it, honest! And the frilly canopy over the bed so wasn't his idea!) Pacton even had decent choices between private or public schools, but Hope went to neither – Nate had insisted on teaching her himself, which Hope was all too pleased about.

Of course, Nate being in charge of the education meant that Wade had a lot of necessary things to fill in. This little expedition had been hard to plan until Tasky told Wade to call it a lesson in cinema. Lesson the first was to either bring your own food, or buy the refill size and abuse it. And Nate was a stickler for the rules. (But come on, that "No outside food or drinks" rule was only enforced by a sticker. A _sticker!_ )

Wade showered his newly filled bucket-o-popcorn with butter and then strolled back to the theater, once again jamming his way between the seats and Nate's enormous thighs to get back into his seat. He grinned and gave Hope the bucket again – she was the designated bucket-holder between them – and dug in, grabbing the most buttery handful.

Nate could only sigh with some amusement, noting that Wade's gloves and face were indiscriminately greasy from the artificial flavoring. He'd either have to convince Wade to take a shower, or ambush him with a wet wipe at the first opportunity.

"What did I miss?"

"The cartoon cats were singing," Hope explained.

Nate didn't watch the film so much as he watched Hope and Wade enjoy the film. He knew from the moment he agreed that this was not going to be an educational venture – purely an entertaining one. Still, he'd agreed because Wade put forward such an effort to convince him that things like these were necessary. And apparently it _was_ educational, whether Wade had even expected it to be or not. He babbled on to Hope about the background of the lead voice actor, and how they used to hand-draw the frames before computers could be used. There was even talk about digging up classic films to watch. From _Wade_. He was talking about classic cartoons, but still.

By the end of the movie, Hope was yawning and Wade was raving about how such-and-such a film was better, or how more explosions would have made the entire film more watchable.

"Do we have to do another bodyslide?" Hope complained against Nate's shoulder as he carried her outside.

"I'm afraid so," Nate answered. "You're ready for bed as it is."

"It'll be fine, kiddo," Wade encouraged. "Just do like I told you."

Hope sighed softly, but closed her eyes and held on to Nate.

Lately, the bodyslides didn't bother her as much as they used to. For one, they weren't much compared to Wade's teleporter. For another thing, Wade had taught her the trick to how to spin without getting dizzy. Now they usually only made her nauseous.

"Ugh," Hope groaned when they landed.

"Easy," Nate said. He took her to bed and had her lay down for a while until the nausea passed, then get changed into her pajamas. But when he went to check on her half an hour later, Hope was already out like a light and he didn't feel like waking her.

"I don't think she'll be waking up until morning," Nate said to Wade after he'd left her room.

"Nah, the little critter was tuckered out," Wade agreed. He wriggled to lazily kick off one of his boots. "So 'm I."

Nate watched with idle fixation while Wade carefully removed the gold band from his thumb before peeling off his gloves, and then returned the ring to the same spot, now against his bare skin. Wade never took off the ring that Nate had given him, whether costumed or not. Even when he'd heroically attempted to fix Sandi's sink, and had lost some of his fingers in a disposal-related accident, he had fussed and panicked until Tony helped him get his thumb out of the plumbing. At least, that's what Nate had heard second-hand, because Wade never admitted that the incident had taken place.

"The bed is more comfortable," Nate offered, not for the first time in the few weeks spent together, but renewing the offer always made him feel odd. He wasn't sure why he had yet to convince Wade that he was more than just a welcomed guest in his home.

"No thanks," Wade replied, already flopping onto the couch. "Big day tomorrow. Arson, insurance fraud. Daddy's bringing home the bacon."

"Hm. Make sure you look into what you're blowing up before you hit the detonator," Nate cautioned, turning to make his way to his own bedroom.

"Not blowing up. Setting on fire. I can be subtle sometimes, you know. Use candles. Or maybe a flamethrower. No. I'll settle for matches, and play some Rock Master Scott. _The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire…_ "

Nate let Wade's babbling fade away, shutting his door and undressing for the night. He peeled off his shirt, exchanged boots and pants for a soft pair of shorts, and sat heavily on the side of his bed, shoulder hunched.

He just didn't understand, really. Surely Wade understood what he'd meant when he gave him that ring. After the kisses they'd shared, how could he not? But since they'd come back to the present, Wade had yet to join him in bed, even to sleep.

Maybe it was because Hope had her own bed now, and there was no buffer between them, no survival reason for them to stay so close. Maybe it was because of the prevalent homophobia that plagued this century, because despite how close they were, men didn't _really_ sleep with each other. And while it might be okay for them to raise Hope and share a house, or even kiss each other now and then, Wade kept saying weird stuff, like it was a 'running gag for the writers', the two of them being together. Maybe Wade was even scared. Or maybe Wade just didn't actually think of him in such a way.

But despite his physiology, Nate wasn't a machine. He was very much human. And sometimes he just wanted a warm body to hold at the end of the day, or one to hold _him_. Sometimes he just wanted Wade to let down his defenses for real, to remind him that they really did understand each other, because some days he wondered. And sometimes he just wanted to push Wade down and make love to him, because he loved everything about that man for some reason. His voice, his thoughts, his skills, his loyalty, and yes, his body.

Nate knew very well that Wade liked him, to a degree. He thought about the boyfriend remarks, the flirting, the few kisses that Wade had instigated, their close friendship, and the fact that Wade never rebuked him, never discouraged him or his advances. But he never acted on them, either. Perhaps it was just a case of denial, then. Perhaps Wade would never make the first move. For all of his flirting, Wade was, in actuality, strangely skittish at times.

He had to take progressive steps, Nate finally decided. Make his intentions clear. Work things slowly. There was a good chance that Nate could go out there right then and come on strong, and that maybe Wade would even be receptive to a direct advance. But Nate wanted Wade to want it first.

Nate tried to put his finger on exactly what the word was to describe this plan budding in his head. Courtship wasn't quite the word that was compatible with Wade. And 'dating' was something that didn't come close to fitting the plan. It was more like... seduction. A lengthy and involved seduction plan, beginning to outline itself in Nate's mind. That was just the right word. If Wade asked, Nate was sure that Wade would be highly amused to hear that he was being seduced. Or maybe he'd be genuinely surprised, and get embarrassed, trying to joke it off until Nate kissed him thoroughly enough to convince him that he was nothing but serious.

That was a good mental image – Wade flustered, his exposed skin growing red at the realization that Nate really wanted _him_.

Nathan finally lay back in bed, turning his light off with a thought. The darkness became his accomplice in the plans that were ever-expanding in detail. He'd begin tomorrow.

x


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of bacon and eggs sizzling in a pan stirred Wade awake in the morning, along with the faint noises of domesticity as Nate tinkered in the kitchen. Wade had time to stretch, shower, and dress before knocking at Hope's door and bidding her good morning.

"Up and at 'em, my little baby cow."

Hope made a tired noise. "Baby cows are called _calves_ ," she said, not for the first time, as she got up and rubbed her eyes.

"And what are baby turtles called?" Wade asked jokingly.

The smell of a cooked breakfast banished Hope's tiredness as soon as she entered the kitchen. She bounced on her toes excitedly, inspecting the pans full of food, the hot toaster, the crackling bacon.

"Did you scramble the eggs right?" Hope asked.

"Yes," Nate answered.

"Is that toast mine?"

"Of course."

"Can you make my bacon extra crispy?"

"Go sit down, Hope."

She frowned, but went to the table and hopped into one of the chairs. Wade was already seated, admiring how Nate had everything under control. Former president of Rumekistan and leader of his own island, now Nate was at least the master of the kitchen.

"Orange juice or milk?" Nate asked, already bringing Hope her plate of food.

"Orange juice!"

"And how do you want your coffee this morning, Wade?"

"In an IV drip, por favor," Wade said. He was given black instead, with a modest amount of sugar along with his heaping plate of food. He dug in appreciatively, finishing off half of his breakfast before he came up for air.

"So, what's the lesson plan today?" Wade questioned around a mouthful of bacon.

"Nathan's going to teach me about photo... pho-to-syn-sis."

"Photosynthesis," Nathan corrected gently.

"Pho-to-syn-the-sis," Hope repeated. "Plants," she added, for Wade's sake.

"Cool. Plants are cool," Wade said.

"What are you doing today?" Hope asked. Wade didn't always have a job for the day, but when he did he wore his full costume and weapons to the breakfast table.

"Someone's paying me mucho payola to burn down a building," Wade said.

"But people live in buildings," Hope frowned.

"Yeah, but not this building," Wade said.

"You're sure?"

"I haven't seen the place yet."

"You have to make sure! There could be people in there. _Old_ ones," Hope said.

"You're truly a Summers," Wade grumbled. Nathan shot him a look, and Wade took a quick gulp of coffee. "I'll check, of course," he promised.

"You better." Hope gave Wade a doubtful look until he finally made a motion of crossing his heart.  
Half an hour later, Hope finished her breakfast and scooted out of her chair. "Can I go outside please? Please? Please, dad?"

"I'll meet you in the garden," Nate said, ruffling Hope's red hair.

"Come 'ere," Wade grabbed Hope as she went by and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll catch ya later, tater tot."

"In time for dinner?" Hope questioned.

"Maybe."

"In time to tuck me in?" she persisted. "Please."

"That much I can do," Wade agreed, and gave her a pat on the head before she scampered off.  
"Ah, kids these days," Wade said, in between the last few bites of his breakfast. "They always want to go outside and learn. Whatever happened to the good old days of television and video games?" he scraped his plate clean, then picked up his dishes and stood to deposit them in the sink.

Nate stood as well, stopping Wade with a tug at his belt.

"Wade," Nate said. "Before you go, I wanted to talk."

"I knew this was coming," Wade frowned, and scratched his head nervously. "Look, hear me out before you say anything. I noticed the way you've been looking at me lately. I know what you're thinking. But I meant to buy a new carton, honest. I just haven't had time to go to the store lately."

"I'm not talking about the milk," Nathan said. "Though I would appreciate it if you'd stop drinking straight from the carton."

"Oh," Wade relaxed fractionally. "What's to talk about, then?"

"You and me," Nate said, pointedly closing the gap between them.

"And our living arrangements?" Wade asked. "Okay, 'cause I gotta admit, sleeping on the couch is kinda losing the appeal. We either need to upgrade to a bigger place, or install a laugh track in here."

"I don't want you sleeping on the couch anymore."

"Oh." The hurt was evident in Wade's eyes, even as he tried to look thoughtful. "I guess I'd better find my own-"

"Or you can start sleeping in my bed," Nate suggested.

"Yeah, but where would _you_ sleep, then?"

"Beside you," Nate answered plainly. "The bed is king sized for a reason."

"But then we'd be like... We'd be almost like we were... Together."

"I don't want _almost_ ," Nate said. "I want you."

Wade seemed to have a hard time processing that. "But you're... and I'm... not..."

Nathan sighed softly, his fears realized. "Because we're both men," he surmised.

"Well, duh. _Manly_ men, if you need to get specific. But I was gonna say... I'm not worth it. Cable and Deadpool, that's like a punchline, right? Someone as good and handsome as you ending up with someone as rotten and ugly as me. Haha," Wade said, looking nauseous. "If you want like, a friends with benefits thing, you should look Domino up. I'm sure she'll be discreet. Aaand I can't believe I just turned down sex."

"Wade," Nathan settled closer, putting his hands on Wade's neck and waiting until the man looked him in the eye again. "You _are_ worth it. You're not a joke. I don't want a 'friends with benefits thing.' I don't want Domino, or anyone else. I don't even, to an extent, want _sex_. I want you. And I'd like to, eventually, be able to make love to you. But if that's out of the question, I'll be content either way."

Wade shivered. "You know you could do whatever you want to me."

"Is that so?"

"This is going to end with me tied to the bed with weird things in weird places, isn't it?"

Nathan laughed softly. "I hadn't pictured anything quite so colorful. I thought we'd take things slow."

Wade was twitchy. "Dinner first?"

"Easy," Nathan teased, pressing down on Wade's shoulders as if to calm the mercenary's racing pulse. "Just kissing."

"Oh, kissing's good. I like those," Wade readily complied, nodding his head. Nate smiled with a silent laugh, and Wade leaned up on his toes, stealing Nate's smile with a kiss.

Nate let him lead, savoring the way Wade's hands went to his hair. He slipped his hands down, settling just above Wade's hips, and pulled him closer, slowly kneading the muscle at the same time. He felt Wade take a breath against his lips, and then kiss him again, this time open-mouthed and hungry. Their tongues slid together, Nate passive while Wade explored insistently.

Nate finally eased back, nipping at Wade's bottom lip while his hands went to Wade's belt. "I'll see you when you get home. And maybe we can continue... talking?"

Wade just began to form words of agreement when Nate activated his teleporter.

He was suddenly standing in the middle of Agency X, his mask and hands still up, clutching at nothing. He recovered quickly, pulling his mask down. "Uh, so what're we blowing up?"

"Setting on fire," Alex corrected. "Do _not_ blow up the building, Wade. And I'm going to pretend that you weren't just making out with your boyfriend."

 

////

 

Wade came home late that night, exhausted and smelling strongly of smoke. The house was already dark. He went to Hope's room, not surprised to find her still awake, waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" Hope asked, sitting up slightly.

"Yep. And home in time to tuck you into bed," Wade said, and proceeded to do just that, even though it was obvious that Nate had sort of beaten him to it. He still fixed her sheets and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"You were on the six o' clock news," Hope murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, there were almost some casualties," Wade responded. "Had to save the day. Go to sleep."

He left quietly, shutting the door behind him, and went to the living room to lay down. 

Nate was waiting for him on the couch.

Wade sighed and rubbed his mask with some frustration. "Don't lecture me, okay? Nobody got hurt."

"Not even the box of puppies," Nate noted, barely hiding his amusement, but Wade took him seriously.

"How was I supposed to know some stay mutt got into the basement and made a home? I was busy making sure the stupid people were out of there, and then Captain America shows up all, 'My sappy senses are tingling – there's puppies trapped in the building and you're going to special hell if you let puppies die in a fire, Wade.' So I had to go into the stupid burning building to save them because stupid Captain America is looking like he's ready to bust my face otherwise, and I got third degree burns and all he did was stand heroically in the doorway. At least they thought I was there trying to be a hero or something, but all the ladies were all over Captain Boy Scout there and it's not like he did _anything_. He didn't even take the dogs. Seriously! But one of the puppies peed all over Alex, so that just made it worth it, you know?" Wade flopped onto the couch bonelessly, getting some soot onto the cushions. "So... how was _your_ day, sweetie?"

"Hope and I spent the day in the garden," Nate answered simply. In truth, he'd explained to her about the parts and functions of a plant, dissected a few to show her the filaments and ovary of a flower, and even gotten into the concepts of pollination, and the role of plants in the food chain. Tomorrow Hope wanted to find a hive of bees for whatever reason. And if that's what she wanted to learn about, Nathan was happy to oblige.

"So what's the plan?" Wade asked after a pause of silence. "You want to make out on the couch like a couple of kids?"

"No. I just didn't want you trying to skip out on coming to bed tonight. And my plan is top secret."

"Don't I have clearance?" Wade pouted.

"It's on a need-to-know basis," Nate smiled. "And all you need to know right now is that we're at step one. Kissing." He emphasized by pressing a kiss into the side of Wade's mask.

"Lame. Step one is usually inventive bondage."

"Is that what you want?" Nate challenged.

"Uhh..." Wade scratched his ear. "What's the second step?"

"Whatever it needs to be," Nate answered, standing up.

"It doesn't involve nudity and a pottery wheel, does it?"

Nate shook his head.

"How many steps are there?"

"As many as there needs to be," Nate repeated. "Go shower, Wade. Come lay down with me when you're done."

"Like in a biblical sense, or...?"

"I'll be reading," Nate said as he walked away.

And he was. When Wade finished his shower and dressed in his boxers and a shirt and a robe and his mask (and why did he need so many layers? It just made him feel right, he was not nervous, _shut up_ ) he went to Nate's room, finding Nate sitting on one half of the bed, reading. The larger man was dressed in casual grey pajama bottoms, his ankles crossed while he read some book that was in French.

"Parlez-vous français?" Wade questioned, trying to appear nonchalant while he laid down on what was apparently 'his' half of the bed. It was soft, actually, and the bed was huge to him. He could stretch out completely and only feel more mattress and, ah, he'd just touched Nate's thigh. Ye gads. Bad hand, bad.

"Not fluently," Nathan admitted, glancing at Wade when his thigh was touched. "You?"

"No," Wade shook his head, crinkling his brow with a frown. "I _know_ French, but I don't like the way it tastes."

"Synesthesia?" Nate questioned, forever amused and perplexed by Wade's quirks.

"Who in the what-now?"

"Never mind." Nate shook his head lightly and went back to reading, but couldn't quite focus on the words. He was too focused on Wade's bare feet, which idly flexed and rubbed together with impatience. The rest of Wade was disappointingly covered, from his knees to his head. Of all things, Nate was most dismayed that Wade wore the _mask_ to bed. He'd really hoped they were past this.

"Invite me to bed and then ignore me," Wade mumbled, thinking aloud again.

"What was that?" Nate questioned, turning his head.

"Nothing."

"Tell me what's on your mind, Wade," Nate said, closing his book and putting it aside for the night.

"You're the psychic! You tell me," Wade pouted stubbornly.

Nate humored him, squinting in concentration while he stared at Wade, and putting a hand to his temple. He finally smiled and shook his head. "Duct tape?"

"Yep, that's it. That's all I'm thinking about," Wade lied. "Duct tape, duct tape, duct tape. Duct tape. Chimichanga. Chimichurri. Chirriburri. Nate. If step one is kissing then why aren't you kissing me yet?"

"Do you want me to kiss you?" Nate questioned, his voice lowering.

"Si, por favor," Wade answered, wiggling closer.

Nate touched Wade's neck, and carefully rolled the mask up to his nose. He leaned in slowly to Wade's lips, pausing as Wade swallowed a breath in anticipation... and then kissed Wade's forehead.

"Goodnight," Nate said, flopping back over childishly and turning off the light.

"Agh! Nate, nooo!" Wade whined, tackling the larger man. He pinned him, hands on Nate's huge shoulders, staring down at him. "Nate... don't make me beg... okay, _please_."

Nate stopped chuckling, lifting his hand to stroke the nape of Wade's neck. "Do what you like."

Wade hesitated for only a moment, and then his mouth was on Nate's – hot and slick and surprisingly tender. His skin still smelled like soot and earth, and his weight was relatively light but wonderful on top of Nate, and when Nate rubbed his back just so, he made soft, contented sighs.

They stayed like that for several long minutes, until the kisses turned languid and soft and Wade finally rested his head against Nate's neck and fell asleep in Nate's arms.

x


	3. Chapter 3

"Just find him something to do," Taskmaster demanded, already exasperated with Wade's antics.

"Outlaw's already on the job, and I'm not paying Wade a cent!" Alex harrumphed.

Taskmaster groaned as another paper football hit him in the head. "Can we please send him home to his boyfriend?"

"Hey! Nate's _not_ my boyfriend," Wade denied. "And he says I'm not allowed to go home for a while, because he's taking Hope to learn about bees and he thinks I'll do something inappropriate or irresponsible with bees."

"You? _Never_ ," Taskmaster said.

Wade flailed his arms emphatically. "That's what I said! We could have taught Hope about bee stings and anaphylactic shock!"

"Don't listen to your boyfriend – go do it anyway," Taskmaster urged.

"Nate would be really skeeved – and HEY! He's _not_ my boyfriend!"

"Wade, a bottle of tequila couldn't make me forget the two of you making out in Central Park," Taskmaster said. "Scott Summers probably asked Wolverine to blind him after that."

"Tony, come on," Sandi scolded. "They're so cute together."

"We're not together," Wade insisted.

"Wade, you're currently living in the same house and raising a child together who refers to you both as her dads," Sandi said. "I don't care what you call it. Any further back into that closet and you'll be in Narnia. And you _hate_ those beaver people."

"Argh. I do. I do. I hate those damn beavers," Wade said. "With their enormous teeth and their ungodly talent for rustic architecture."

"Here's an idea," Taskmaster interrupted. "Go build an elaborate, pressure-sensitive IED* and lay on it. If you bring me back a piece of your scapula, I'll give you a lollipop."

"I thought I was your _friend_ , Tasky," Wade complained, draping himself dramatically over the back of the couch so his upside-down head was next to Tony's.

"Go _away_ , Wade."

"Just ignore him," Sandi encouraged. Taskmaster sighed and tried to listen to his girlfriend's advice.

"Ohhhh, 'F' is for friends who do stuff together! 'U' is for ukelele! N is for- hrrk!" Wade gave Tony an angry glare, unable to sing with a hand strangling him.

"Wade," Sandi broke up the one-sided fight, slapping at Tony's arm until the vice-like grip was released. She pulled Wade up-right and continued speaking before his crushed trachea healed itself. "We still have a puppy situation. Remember the ones that you brought back? It would _reeeeally_ help if you could go find them all homes."

"Puppies?" Wade frowned, rubbing his throat. "How much you willing to pay me?"

"I'm _not_ paying you!" Alex asserted again from across the room.

"If you can sell them, you can keep the money," Sandi offered quickly.

"I'll take the case!" Wade declared.

"I'm so glad to hear that!" Sandi grinned.

"Yeah, I was worried we'd have to call in the X-Men for that one," Taskmaster added.

Sandi grabbed Wade by the arm and led him off to a different room. "They're in here," she said, opening the door to what looked like a previously unused closet. Several puppies were curled up with each other, sleeping in a furry little pile. A few others were eating some puppy food and drinking out of a shallow dish. They eagerly perked up and headed to the open door, so that Sandi had to quickly kneel and corral them in.  
"There's seven of them," Sandi explained while she scooped up little white-and-brown-spotted bundles and deposited them into a lined cardboard box. "I'm sure people will want them; they're really cute, right?"  
"Cute, sure, uh-huh," Wade said, scooping up another little puppy with a rolly-polly belly.

"Ah, no-no-no," Sandi stopped him, taking the little puppy. "Outlaw wants this little guy. She likes his scrappy ear, see?" she pointed at the floppy, wounded ear that had a piece missing.

"Most of them have scrappy ears," Wade noted, peeking into the box. The puppies looked like they'd all been in a bar fight. With Wolverine.

"Yeah, but this one has a little mask, too," Sandi said, gesturing to the brown around its eyes. "She's naming him Bandit. Isn't he precious?" she gave the dog a little squeeze, and it licked its nose at Wade. "I'd take one too but my cat hates dogs." She pouted while Wade scooped up the box of squirming puppies and stuck her hand in for a quick goodbye pat. "Bye puppies! Wade's gonna make sure you all find good homes. _Right_ Wade?"

"Sure, but I'm doing it for the _money_ , not 'cause I care about stupid puppies or anything."

 

_***Story Note... IED = Improvised Explosive Device. XOXO, Deadpool.** _

 

//////

 

  
Wade sat on a New York curb next to a box of puppies, chin in his hand. It had been four hours and there were still two pups left, whining and playing with each other in the box.

He had stolen a cardboard sign from a sleeping bum and on the other side of the "Need money 4 booze" plea, he scrawled "Pupies 4 sale" and propped it up against a wall.

The day went by okay. Slow, but okay. Except for that incident when a mime tried to get friendly with him. Seriously, what part of having the business end of a gun pointed at you does a mime not understand? And worse, the frigging mime stuck an invisible cork in the end of his gun. Thank God he had his katanas – a little flesh wound and the mime finally takes a hint – but now he had to figure out how to get that stupid cork out of his barrel.

So, he was down to two pups. And he's made just over twenty bucks. Not from selling the dogs, but from people chucking spare change into the box. After being told to "get a real job" about ten thousand times, Wade was pretty convinced that the Hero Gigs seriously S-U-K, SUCKED.

A girl finally came up and had the decency to take one of the last remaining dogs. She looked like a hippie. Hippie chicks dig guys with dogs. Too bad she forgot to leave her number with him. How was he supposed to call her?

And that was it. Seriously. Wade Wilson and one puppy left who looked like it belonged in an ASPCA commercial with Sarah McLachlan crooning in the background. It was funny, almost, because he could've sworn people went on and on about rescuing dogs, but this one, no one wanted to get within ten feet of. Or maybe it was _him_ they didn't like.

Wade finally stood up – his ass hurt from sitting on the sidewalk all day, like _seriously_ – and grabbed the box. The loose change jingled happy "spend me" noises in his pocket all the way to the nearest taco stand, and it got him about three and one sixteenth whole geniune tacos, and he found a bench to sit on with the dog so he could have his delicious tacos.

The dog was small, and a little scruffy. He was a dirty white sort of color (probably litterally just dirty) with brown spots and brown ears (one scrappy ear). Some fleas were quite happy in its fur. One eye was shut. Actually, Wade realized after all this time, the eye was probably gone. He was a quiet fellow, and he liked tacos a lot, too. He ate every bit that Wade gave him, thumping his tail in appreciation each time Wade spared so much as a gob of delicious meat-paste.

"If you like this, you'll _love_ canned dog food," Wade told the one-eyed puppy.

"Hey mister," someone interrupted, walking over to peer into the box. "Are you selling that puppy?"

Wade dug his fingers into his taco again and let the one-eyed puppy lick them clean. "No," he said decisively. "This is my dog."

 

//

 

Nate was... Nate wasn't sure how to accurately describe how he felt when Wade came home late (later than he'd told Wade to stay away from the house) with a puppy in one hand and bags of dog supplies in the other hand.

Hope was _thrilled_.

"Is that a dog? Is it mine? What kind of dog is it? Is it a boy dog or a girl dog? Can it do tricks? What happened to its eye? Does it miss its mommy? Can it sleep in my bed? What's its name?"

"He doesn't have a name yet," Wade said. "But let me tell you, he loves tacos."

"Wade, can we talk about this, please?" Nate asked.

"Hope, do you want a dog?" Wade asked.

"Yes! Please, Dad, pleeease?"

"Two to one," Wade smirked. "You're out-voted, Nate. Democracy and all that."

"Wade, the poor thing has one eye," Nate frowned.

"You never refused anyone into Providence," Wade pouted at him pointedly.

"It has fleas, Wade."

"You let a _terrorist_ into Providence," Wade continued. "Heck, you let _me_ into Providence!"

Nate rubbed his forehead, already aware that he wasn't going to win this argument. On one hand, he reasoned, it would teach Hope responsibility. She'd have a playmate when Wade was out on a mission. And the dog would probably clean up nice enough. It was cute even now – dirty, flea-bitten, and very likely malnourished. It looked like a Brittany, which were supposed to be great with kids and very trainable. "What will we name him?" he asked, giving in.

"Bea Arthur!"

"Scooter," Hope said.

"Dogpool! Wait, wait, there's already a Dogpool. Bea Arthur!"

Hope scrunched up her face in thought. "Chancey?"

"Cyclops!"

"Wade, we're not naming the dog after my father."

"Winky!"

"How about Lucky?" Hope suggested, petting the puppy.

"I think Bea Arthur is a good name," Wade said, nodding in approval at his own idea.

Nathan planted a heavy hand on Wade's shoulder. "How about we let Hope decide?"

Hope made a face, trying hard to think. She smiled when the puppy licked her fingers and tried to wriggle into her arms. "I can't decide."

"Then wait on it for a while," Nate said. "You don't need to name him right away. Wade, what did you buy?"

"Important stuff," Wade huffed, digging into his bags. He pulled out collars – three different ones for some reason – tennis balls, bowls, a squeaky toy, a leash, a stuffed animal made to look like roadkill, a rope, a flea collar, a flea comb, dog treats, and a rubber bone.

"You didn't get any dog food?" Nate questioned when the bags were finally emptied.

"We'll just feed him tacos, Nate," Wade said. "It's practically the same thing for crying out loud."

"It really isn't."

"Well, they taste the same."

The dog was given a bath – an ordeal that ended in splashing and trying to wrangle a wet puppy with towels. Wade was sent out to get puppy food, and because of his indecision he ended up buying several different brands.

"Seriously, it was almost as bad as diapers," Wade groused while Nate and Hope struggled to towel off a hyperactive pup. "There's organic and stuff with rice, and dry vs. wet or that refrigerated stuff, and they all taste pretty much the same. What a scam."

They put a blue collar with paw prints on the dog – the only one that wasn't enormously too big – and the flea collar as well. Clean and dried, the dog was _fluffier_ than Wade remembered. But a clean, dry, and fluffy puppy made Nate a lot happier, so it was an acceptable disappointment.

Hope stayed up way too late playing with the little thing and tossing names out into the air to see if they sounded right. "Dinosaur? Brownie? Coop? Moxie?"

Her dads finally tucked her into bed, and the dog whined on the floor until Nate picked it up and let it join Hope.

"Thank you so much," Hope eagerly hugged and kissed both of her dads, and then sank back into bed to hug her new dog.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Nate said, petting first Hope and then the new pup.

"He's wiggly," Hope giggled, trying to keep the puppy still beside her.

Nate shut her door and went to bed, surprised to find that Wade had somehow beaten him into bed. 

Wade was sprawled out on his stomach, still in uniform, a picture of exhaustion. Nate shut the door and changed quietly. All the while, Wade never stirred, even when Nate sank into bed next to him.

Nate watched Wade for a long while, and then finally lifted the mercenary's feet and removed his boots, one by one. When his feet were properly bare, Nate took a naked foot in hand and began to lightly rub the scarred flesh with his thumbs, following the curve of his ankle, the arch of his foot, the shallow dips just below his toes. Wade suddenly twitched, his foot jerking out of Nate's hand.

"Tickles," Wade mumbled, turning over onto his back.

"Sorry," Nate mentally filed that away and began to carefully work on the other foot, still succeeding in making Wade squirm. He finally let go and moved up on the bed, resting beside Wade and wishing that the costume weren't between them. He found Wade's hand and removed the glove, continuing his massage on each finger.

"Nate," Wade's throat definitely did not squeak a little when he spoke. He coughed, anyway, just because. Shaddup. "This might sound kinda stupid, but you know me.... I was wondering... 'cause uh, people were saying – not like I care what they say at _all_ – but are we like, um, _boyfriends_ now, in a serious way, or is there a different word? 'Cause... we're not married or anything. And unless we're in a buddy cop film, we sure as hell aren't gonna be _partners_. And we're not _lovers_... er... yet," he added, glad that his mask could hide his blush. "And we're not – I repeat – _not_ gonna be 'special friends' or any of that other bullcrap. I mean, really. So, uh... this is a serious thing, right? A serious, long-term thing?" He bit his lip to shut up, highly aware that he sounded _way_ too hopeful just then.

"I love you, Wade Wilson," Nate said in a voice that was way too low and sexy to be anything but completely serious and oh my gawd, were those his bedroom eyes? Yes, please.

"I love you, too, Nathan Christopher Charles Priscilla Askani'son Summers," Wade babbled, trying to ignore the fact that Nate was unmasking him completely and it was freaking him out. No mask + Nate was usually okay, because Nate was his best male friend, but now Nate was his... his...? "Euwah, so this means you're my... you're my...? You didn't say."

"What do you want me to be?" Nate questioned, staring contentedly at Wade's brown eyes.

"Boyfriend," Wade whispered.

Nate made a rumbling noise of approval and answered by capturing Wade in a kiss.

x


	4. Chapter 4

"I've got a paying gig for you," Alex said to Wade when the mercenary teleported into Agency X. "Guy named Cyrus Vadas is shelling out six mil."

Wade whistled and flopped onto the couch, dangling one leg over the armrest. "That's dead ex-wife kind of money. You know that Nate's doesn't want me doing hits. Even if the mark's a card-carrying baby killer, he's gonna give me that _look_."

"It's not a hit, it's a smash and grab," Alex clarified.

"Hm. Stealing will still get me _a_ look, but not _that_ look," Wade said, considering his options. "I'll just pop a mil into Hope's college fund. That'll get him philosophically twisted.

"Are you in or not?" Alex shot him a hard glare that demanded a straightforward answer.

"I'm your man!" Wade declared, giving a thumbs up and then pretended to check his nails, despite the fact that he was wearing gloves. "What am I stealing? Something _shiny_ , I hope. Diamonds, gold, Patrick Stewart's head-"

"You're not stealing anything," Alex said with a gruff laugh. "You're teaming up with Tony. You'll be _covering_ his back."

"Whaaaat?" Wade rolled his head to look at Taskmaster.

"The vault has a voice-activated password," Alex explained. "Tony can get through that kind of system. The trouble is, we can't fool the _guards_ and we don't have time for a stealthier plan. You need to provide cover fire while Tony gets the device. Keep Tony from bleeding out, and meet at the rendezvous point. Easy."

"Above all, _keep_ Tony safe," Sandi emphasized. "Not all of us can grow back a lung."

"So I'm just a meat shield?!" Wade questioned, a serious pout forming even through the mask. "I might be able to take a Lahti L-39 to the face, but it still _hurts_."

"Just make sure you pack enough ammo for the both of us," Tony said.

Wade scratched at his head. "Ammo. Right. About that..."

 

////

 

"I can't believe you brought _darts_ ," Tony muttered.

"I told you, Nate's got a thing against killing now," Wade said, lifting his gun to sight it while they walked along the rooftop. "I tried swearing it off, but apparently maiming people and letting them bleed to death still _counts_ as killing."

"You couldn't shoot your way out of a paper bag with those things," Tony said. "How does Nate feel about getting your friends killed?"

"Chill, Tasky," Wade loaded a round into his gun. "One little pinprick from these babies, and they'll be unconscious within seconds. Ow! Got myself," Wade shook his hand and laughed. "Don't worry, accelerated metabolism and whatsit. I feel _goooood."_

Tony was far from consoled. "Do you know how many _rounds_ a semi-automatic weapon can fire in just two seconds?"

"Depending on the gun? Twenty," Wade answered.

Tony sighed and decided to focus on business. He'd memorized the schematics of the building, and hopefully had the right devices to force their way into the building. Since stealth wasn't going to be a possibility, that meant they'd have to make up for it with speed in order to minimize their exposure. The building was heavily guarded, but aside from the dozens of men with weapons, the tech was easy enough to bypass.

Tony stopped at the threshold of their target, activating his energy shield. His main priority was to get through the layers of the building, so he would have to rely on Wade to be his offense as well as some additional defense.

"Are you ready, Wade?" Tony asked, touching his skull mask to focus himself. "Once we go past this point, they'll be able to detect our presence. I'll be going _fast_ so keep up with me."

Wade shifted on his feet like a kid who needed a potty break. "Can I have _fun_ , though?"

"Wade, you can do whatever you want as long as it involves you focusing on the mission and not getting me killed. And you need to listen to me."

"Aye-aye, Captain!" Wade mock saluted, succeeding in smacking himself in the face with his weapon.

Tony rolled his eyes and took off, drawing on agility and grace from every ninja or gymnast he'd ever watched in order to cross the network of roof tops until he was situated on top of the enormous security building. He could hear Wade, somewhat clumsier especially with the armory strapped to his body, and suddenly wished that this _was_ a stealth mission. He could have gone in under the radar easily, perhaps not even rousing the attention of any guards. It was Deadpool's presence that was sure to set off all the alarms.

This was what he thought, at least, until they made their way into the building. They gained access to the elevator shaft, following it down until they reached the car and cut the power to prevent it from moving and crushing them.

"It's stopped at level 8," Tony said. "We need to get on that floor."

"Allow me," Wade placed his gun strap around his shoulders to free his hands and pried open the emergency hatch. The creak of the metal was soon followed by the sound of over twenty guns being loaded and aimed at his head.

"Err, _hello_ , boys," Wade said, finding himself staring into an industrial-sized elevator loaded with an entire platoon of armed soldiers. "If you'll excuse me, I believe this is our stop."

Tony was well out of the way when the hail of fire came in response. Wade managed to duck, only taking a few shots before he got out of the line of fire.

"Geez, Louise!" Wade shouted under the deafening echoes of gunfire, his hands clamped over his ears. "I even said excuse me!" He grabbed a grenade-like object from his belt, pulling the pin out with his teeth, and dropped it into the elevator car. Within a few seconds, a strange mist was wafting out of the emergency hatch and the gun fire ceased.

"Knock-out gas?" Tony asked from behind his energy shield, his ears still ringing.

"I'm the gassiest!" Wade confirmed proudly.

"Ugh. You first. I bet there'll be more even if we hadn't just announced our arrival. Remember that we're going left."

"Left, got it," Wade said, slipping down into the elevator once the gas dissipated. "Hey, look, I'm walking all over these guys. Get it?"

Tony jumped down, enjoying the dull impact of his boots landing on top of one of the unconscious soldiers. He went to the elevator doors and positioned himself, waiting for Wade to show that he was ready before prying them open.

Wade open fired immediately, dropping the soldiers like flies, but the hail of lead tearing through his muscle didn't relent even after he'd reloaded. "Too many!" Wade barked, backing up to the elevator. Tony took his cue and rolled out, his shield at the ready, a gun in the other hand. He pressed his back to Wade and they moved, like a well-trained team, making their way to the next access point.

"Just so we're clear, _you_ were the only one using live ammunition," Wade said when one of Tony's shots hit a man in the head.

"Pacifist," Tony muttered, holstering his gun so he could tend to the lock while Wade held off the enemy.

"Hey! This _pains_ me, you know - Ow! Don't shoot my perfectly sculpted thighs, you _jerk!_ \- but I gotta score some cred with Priscilla. He doesn't ask a lot from me, y'know. Take out the trash, pick up some milk, don't track blood in the house."

"Wade... you really _do_ love him, don't you?"

"Like a fat kid loves chocolate cake," Wade answered, turning to fire into the new area once Tony opened the doors, keeping one gun trained on the dwindling number of soldiers behind them at the same time. They shoved through the doorway quickly, Tony activating the lock behind them so they could focus on one side.

"Seriously, Wade," Tony continued. "No jokes or quips. You don't forfeit live ammunition for just anyone. You _love_ him, right?"

"No jokes? No quips? Yeah. He's... he's _Nate_ ," Wade said, not having time to describe everything about Nate, and just one quality of him wouldn't do any justice. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"It's just nice," Tony said, deflecting fire with his shield. "When a lunatic has your life in his hands, it's _nice_ to know that he can be serious about _something_."

"Aww. I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted," Wade said.

"Just keep focused," Tony urged. "I'll buy you ice cream after this."

 

//

 

"Can I have sprinkles on top?" Wade asked, leaning against the counter of the ice cream parlor. He tossed the device lightly between his hands while Tony cradled his wounded arm. "Put sprinkles on top," he told the teenaged 'ice cream artist' who was busy getting one scoop of each flavor into a waffle cone bowl.

"You don't deserve sprinkles," Tony muttered between clenched teeth.

"It was just a _graze_ ," Wade repeated. "We got the whosiewhatsit, didn't we? And you're alive. You don't even qualify as 'maimed', so what're you complaining about? What _is_ this thing, anyway?" he shook the case that contained the device, like a kid shaking presents the night before Christmas, and then froze. "Crap, what if there's ebola in here? Or toy poodles?"

"Some of us do research before we take a job," Tony grunted, taking the mysterious case from Wade. "It's a prototype for an neuralacoustic transducer."

"That's a made-up word, isn't it?"

"Someone made it up, but not me," Tony shrugged. "I'll explain this to you _simply_."

"With picture diagrams, por favor?" Wade asked.

The server placed Wade's ice cream on the counter, and Tasky shoved it towards Wade pointedly. Wade grabbed the ice cream, popped the spoon into his mouth, and let Tasky choose a place for them to sit for their brief respite.

"The device is designed to emit ultrasonic frequencies," Tony said. "It's intended to disrupt neural functions in the cerebellum."

Wade narrowed his eyes while he chewed on his spoon. "Kannst du langsam sprechen?"

"It's like an electric dog whistle," Tony tried again, stooping as low as he could manage. "Except, if it's tuned correctly, it can be used to temporarily paralyze someone because the sound interferes with their brain."

Wade sucked down another spoonful of ice cream. "Sound can do that?"

Tony snorted. "In theory. Reports say it doesn't work. But whoever wants it could easily reprogram it for something less ridiculous."

"Could it make ice cream?"

"It could probably _melt_ ice cream." Tony opened the case to show Wade the device – honestly it didn't look like anything special. It certainly didn't shoot bullets or fire or tacos, so Wade wasn't that interested anymore.

Within a few more minutes, Wade had his ice cream wolfed down, sprinkles and all. He licked his spoon thoughtfully. "Where's the nearest breeder of electric eels?"

"I... I honestly don't even know if there is such a thing," Tony said. "I mean, I'm sure there is somewhere."

"Has to be," Wade agreed.

"Right. But around here? No idea."

Wade tossed his spoon and bowl into a trashcan and they left the parlor. "What about hedgehogs?"

"Illegal to own," Tony said.

"Yeeah, but that doesn't mean you don't know a guy who knows a guy," Wade winked.

"Sorry. The underground hedgehog market is too exclusive for me," Tony responded. "Carry this," he shoved the case into Wade's arms.

"But it's _heavy_."

"I got shot in the arm!"

"You only got shot _once!_ "

"But you heal a thousand times faster than I do."

"Yeah, and I got shot like a _thousand_ times, so comparably-"

"It's not comparable. Just carry the case."

"I'm only doing this under _extreme_ duress."

"I'm _not_ carrying that thing, and without it you don't get paid – how's that for duress?"

"Psh. You want to get paid, too, or else you'd just go home to Sandi and eat mac and cheese."

"Six mil would buy a _lot_ of mac and cheese," Tony said. "Not to mention some fine dresses for my fine lady."

"Awww, you did remember my birthday!" Wade earned himself a tired kick from Tony.

"Six mil for you would more than cover Hope's college fund," Tony noted. "Unless you blow it all on hedgehogs and tacos."

"Psshhh, I wouldn't buy hedgehogs and tacos," Wade snorted. "Maybe tacos, but not _just_ tacos."

"What then?" Tony asked as they walked.

"A summer home in Kailua, and a case of WD-40," Wade muttered dreamily.

Luckily for Tony's sanity, he'd learned not to question what Wade meant by some of the things he said. 

x


	5. Chapter 5

The rendezvous point turned out to be inside an enormous factory that was far from meeting OSHA regulations.

"This doesn't bode well," Tony said quietly as they crossed metal catwalks.

"It has a certain charm," Wade commented, staring at dangling bits of sharp metal and enormous, defunct machinery. "Look – indoor swimming pool!"

"That's sulfuric acid," Tony said, suddenly glad he was wearing a mask. "This better not be an AIM gig."

"Certainly not," a voice called out, and they looked up to see a slim, almost sickly-looking bespectacled man peering down from an upper level. Cyrus Vadas, apparently. His lack of green or yellow jumpsuit indicated that this probably wasn't an AIM headquarters, nor a Hydra base. "You've found it? Bring it here." The man disappeared, and they heard and saw sparks from some sort of welding being done.

"Now I have to lug it _up_ the rickety old staircase?" Wade frowned. Tony ignored his complaints all the way up two flights of stairs. Wade whistled when they got to the top, impressed by what he saw. 

"Iron Man fan," Wade guessed, judging by the suit of armor that the scrawny man was working on. "I've got the Iron Man underoos. Well, four pairs, to be exact."

"It is... far from being as sophisticated as the Iron Man armor," Vadas said. "But the sonic device should finally complete the suit."

"Whatever," Tony interrupted. "You're not getting anything until we've been paid."

"What he said," Wade agreed.

Vadas stopped welding and brushed himself off. "Of course. Where are my manners? This is the bank account and pin number," he said, producing a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Tony.  
Tony scrutinized the piece of paper. "How do I know the money's there?"

"Because it's one of Norman Oswald's accounts," Vadas said. "I've been skimming funds from it, but I won't need it anymore."

Tony gave Wade a slight nod that indicated he could finally get rid of the case. Wade made a little whoop and handed it over, pleased to finally be rid of his burden.

"Naturally, if the account is short, I'll be back to crush your trachea," Tony said.

"Of course," Vadas nodded as he opened the case and removed the device. "Now I suggest you and your friend leave."

"You should give that suit a sweet paint job," Wade advised while the man began to bolt the device to the arm of the suit, and then connected wires. "Some cherry red and metallic black would really pop."

"I was thinking silver and blue," Vadas admitted.

"Psshh! You might as well just paint it hot pink, then. If you wanna look sharp, go for red and black trim."

"Silver and black," Tony said. "Dark colors are intimidating and stealthy."

"You're just allergic to _color_ ," Wade scoffed.

"Some people have _class_."

"I've got class! I've got class coming out of my backside! It's color that's _really_ intimidating. It makes a costume pop."

"Some people choose not to prance around in red spandex," Tony rolled his eyes.

"Monochrome sure didn't keep you from getting _shot_ ," Wade retorted. "So much for stealth."

Just then, one of the windows shattered with a crash, and Wolverine landed on the floor in a crouch, claws at the ready. Wade was surprised – _seriously_ surprised that the building still had windows that hadn't already been smashed by kids with rocks.

"Wolvie!" Wade clapped in delight. "Love the dramatic entrance, but you didn't quite stick the landing. That's gonna hurt your score."

" _Wade?_ " Wolverine snarled, shifting to his feet while more X-Men arrived through the freshly smashed window. Psylocke, Warpath, and X-23.

"See?" Wade said to Tony. "Black and _yellow_. It's classic."

"I thought you turned over a new leaf, Wade," Wolverine growled.

"What? Me? I turned over a whole new _tree!_ " Wade exclaimed.

"Okay, then," Wolverine advanced. "Tell me you didn't steal the sonic device."

"I didn't," Wade said. "I _helped_ steal it. What's the big deal? It doesn't work, and the bad guy's right there. Go get 'em, Wolvie."

Wolverine made an irritated noise, but turned his full attention to Vadas, who had climbed inside of the metal suit, and seemed to have a hard time controlling it.

"Give up _now_ , bub, or else," Wolverine said, sliding his claws together menacingly. "I'm sure you know what I can do with these babies, and let me assure you, that little exo-suit ain't gonna do jack to protect you against me."

"On the contrary," Vadas said as he activated a weapons system, and began to fire.

Wade folded his hands behind his head and leaned back against the railing next to Tony to watch the fighting. "Ten bucks says Wolvie takes off one of his limbs."

"Ten bucks says 'Wolvie' takes off one of _your_ limbs," Tony countered.

"Hah, you're on." Wade watched the fight with idle amusement, waiting for Lara or Wolverine to sink claws into the exo-suit and end the little show. But Vadas wasn't as awkward at the controls anymore and the weapons system was... surprisingly good.

"Logan, hit the sonics!" Psylocke yelled, clutching at a wound.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?!" Wolverine snarled.

"You won't get the chance," Vadas said through blood-stained teeth as he activated the device on his suit.

A pulsing suddenly filled the room, like the air itself was thick and throbbing. It was almost like being next to a subwoofer at a party, with the bass pounding into Wade's chest and head. It was strange, and Wade watched the X-Men, and Tony, drop to their knees. Tony made the _cutest_ little sounds of anguish.

"Tingly," Wade said, only feeling slight discomfort from the sonic device. "Is this gonna cause hearing damage?" But actually, he couldn't hear a thing – could only _feel_ the sound vibrations.

Vadas approached Wade, curious as to why the device hadn't affected him as much as the others.

"My apologies," Vadas said, tinkering with the device. "It's not working as it should just yet."

"Duh. I said it was broken," Wade retorted.

"Broken, yes," Vadas agreed. "In the sense that it's not as _harmless_ as it was intended to be."

"Err, whatnow?" Wade frowned. Strangely, he found it difficult to move.

"Ah, I'm not at the optimum frequency," Vadas said, pressing a button. The pulsing suddenly stopped, and there seemed to be a collective noise of relief.

Wolverine was on his feet in an instant. He lunged at Vadas, claws first, but the neuralacoustic transducer activated again, and he dropped to his knees once more, along with everyone else except for Wade, although he wobbled, feeling a weird pressure in the air.

"Interesting," Vadas murmured as he experimented with the device. A little tweak on the settings, and the struggling X-Men collapsed to the floor like stringless puppets. He laughed, pleased by the results, and then noticed Wade, who was merely slumped at the railing, a hand pressed to his head.

"Am I supposed to be able to _feel_ my brain?" Wade questioned. It was like someone had put a balloon in his head and was trying to inflate it. Not quite painful, but incredibly disconcerting.

Vadas approached Wade and attempted to pull off his mask, but Wade slapped his hand away.

"Hey. This isn't a peep show."

"Odd. You shouldn't have any motor control left at this level. What does it feel like?"

"It tickles," Wade answered.

"Hm." Vadas dialed the device up another notch. "How about now?"

"Heugh... my nose is bleeding," Wade said, trying to stanch the blood through his mask. His movements felt heavier, hard to control, like he was drunk. And boy was it hard for someone with his metabolism to get drunk.

"Good," Vadas smiled.

"Good? Bleeding is not good," Wade protested. He wasn't so sure he liked this guy anymore.

"Not for you, no," Vadas agreed. "But it means my device is working now. In a minute or so, your friends will all suffer massive brain hemorrhages. The designer considered it a flaw, but I consider it a bonus. Of course, not being able to hear their screams of anguish is a pity. But sacrifices need to be made."

"It's lethal?" Wade realized, earning an amused chuckle from Vadas.

"Obviously. Why else would your friends try so hard to stop me?"

He struggled to support his own weight on his feet, and pulled up his mask to spit blood onto the floor. Vadas watched all of this with the detached gaze of a scientist noting the results of an experiment.

"You realize, of course, that I must fight you now," Wade said, each word a great difficulty.

"You're welcome to try," Vadas nodded, shifting his stance in anticipation of a fight, although he knew all too well that Wade was having trouble enough just to stand.

Wade realized, even as his brain was struggling to keep functioning, that he would never be able to beat Vadas in a fight. He was cornered against this railing, with nothing behind him but a serious plunge. Everything felt heavy and slow. His own weapons were weighing him down, and he doubted he had enough fine motor control to so much as shoot a gun. Swords were out of the question – too much effort needed – and even if he could begin a hand-to-hand fight with Vadas and attempt to take him out as quickly as possible – jab his fingers through the man's eye sockets, snap his neck – the device would probably just keep on going, and he would only live long enough to watch Wolverine's brain ooze out of his nose. Which was kind of cool as an abstract concept, but totally not cool as a "holy fuck, everyone's going to die in this shitty factory and it's all my fault" sort of revelation moment.

Vadas saw Wade's hesitation, and the slight slump of his shoulders as he finally realized the gravity of his situation.

"It's almost a shame," Vadas noted, feeling philosophical. "The weapon is so effective, it removes the simple thrill that comes from the challenge of the hunt."

Wade laughed suddenly. "You know what's funny? A lot of people tell me I don't _have_ a brain. Guess this shows them!"

Vadas chuckled as well, amused by Wade's tenacity even in the face of certain death. He ceased to be amused when Wade used the last reserves of his energy to grab him and heave them both over the side of the railing. 

When they hit the bottom, Wolverine finally found the ability to lift his face out of a pool of his own blood. His skull still throbbed like the worst headache ever. There was a terrible fusion of Vadas screaming in the worst agony imaginable, followed by horrific silence.

"Wade, you fucking idiot," Wolverine cursed, rushing to the side of the platform.

"Logan?" Psylocke questioned.

"Tell Cable to get here, _now,_ " Wolverine snarled.

"But Cable isn't-"

Wolverine leapt from the edge, not listening to her from the start. He landed on the ground and reached into the pool for Wade, his skin decomposing and lungs burning from fumes as he dragged the other man's remains out of the pit of sulfuric acid.

 _Cable,_ Psylocke thought, projecting as far as she could as she stared over the edge at Wolverine, who was howling in excruciating pain. _Cable, if you can hear me, Wolverine needs you here now. He's hurt, and Deadpool.... Wade Wilson is dead._

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the old chapters 6 through 9 that I wrote in 2012 ended up getting axed. There's not much I can salvage out of them, which means it'll take me a little bit of time to rewrite. If you notice a shift in writing, the 6 year gap would be why. Thanks!


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